


Tell Him? Tell Him.

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 14:37:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a short little ficlet with Combeferre/Feuilly. Morning talk and fellatio.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Him? Tell Him.

Combeferre curled his hands that bit more firmly around Feuilly's waist, pressing his cheek to the working man's muscled shoulder and enjoying the warmth of it on his own flesh. 

"We ought to rise." Feuilly said.

"You've a day off." Combeferre returned, pressing a kiss to Feuilly's skin. "How often do you take the chance to sleep in?"

"Never." Feuilly admitted.

"Precisely. Today, you can, so you should take the chance." 

"Ever logical."

"It's my best feature." Combeferre said easily, and Feuilly chuckled, stroking playfully over the other man's shoulders. Feuilly's bed wasn't that comfortable with its too-thin mattress and its threadbare sheets, but when they were sharing it it was warmer, and both of them were as comfortable as could be. 

"Enjolras will want us tonight." Feuilly murmured. "Late, I mean."

"If you've got to get up, early, I can talk to him."

"No, no, I want to." Feuilly protested, and after a pause, he said, "I thought we could tell him. About this."

"Oh." Combeferre said, and his lips twitched into a very slight smile. "Yes, that's an idea. Just Enjolras?"

"Courfeyrac already knows." Feuilly said reasonably. "And both of us are closer to Enjolras than anyone else. He would be upset to discover we're hiding it."

"He'd understand why. In these times, my friend, one cannot be too safe." Feuilly pressed a careful kiss to Combeferre's hair, lips lingering among the sandy crop of locks there. 

"No." He agreed. "But now?"

"Tonight, we'll tell him." Combeferre nodded his agreement, and he grinned a little, dipping to press a kiss to Feuilly's chest. He slid below the sheets, and Feuilly laughed at the tickle of his morning stubble across his own skin. 

"Talk of Enjolras gets you bothered, I see."

"You put this down to Enjolras? You are too modest. No, it's all you, my good man." Combeferre returned, and then he dipped his head between Feuilly's thighs, and the working man let out a quiet noise, head dropping back on the bed as he put his fingers through Combeferre's hair.

"You are  _awful_."

"I am divine." Combeferre returned, and then he licked a stripe across Feuilly's member. "I am gentle." Another, and Feuilly tightened his hand on the pillow beneath his head, the other cupping the back of the other's head. "I am yours." And then he took Feuilly entirely, leaving an obscene shift beneath the sheet where Feuilly's hips were. 

"Mine." Feuilly agreed in a tight tone, closing his eyes. "Yes, God, Combeferre, just like that-" And Combeferre continued. It didn't take Feuilly long: it never did, but when he pulled back the sheets to see Combeferre smug, chin resting on the other's stomach, he chuckled a little. "Ridiculous."

"Don't you agree that it was a fantastic idea to stay in bed?" Feuilly's laugh was a merry one, and Combeferre smiled to see it.

"I concede, my dear friend, it was a perfect one."


End file.
